


The Birthday Present

by Malind



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender Neutral, Other, POV Second Person, Prostitution, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-21 21:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth's friends have a great idea for a birthday present: You. I did my best to make this gender neutral so that anyone can enjoy it. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Present

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wrote this today, and it is my first attempt at writing a Character/Reader story. I've wanted to write one for a long, long time, but never had the courage. I hope it's all right.
> 
> Considering Sephiroth's personality, to make this fast and dirty, the only way I could get this to work in my head was to make the reader a prostitute. If that offends you, please don't bother with this. But remember, prostitutes are people too.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Final Fantasy VII universe and characters are owned by Square Enix. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

You shred the last of your clothing, trying to keep your head together, trying not to blush. You should be used to this kind of thing by now, people ogling and groping you. But maybe you're unsettled because you know you're not for these two men. These two are merely your judges and the ones paying for you.

The redhead tilts his head, looking every bit of you over with careful consideration. "What did I tell you, Angeal? Just like that one he was staring at. Same hair, body-type, everything."

The raven-haired SOLDIER eyes you too, a quick flight over your body's length, probably mostly out of obligation to his friend's comment than anything. "Yeah, it's a wonder what you can find on the internet..."

Genesis grins at you, ignoring his friend's bland words. "It's our great General's birthday today, or so he told us. I don't think he even knows for sure, honestly. But treat him good. ...Oh," Genesis says, before digging into his coat pocket and handing you a bottle. "Here. Not sure how dry you are, but, well, he's quite... substantial," the man said with a laugh. "You might want to get lubed up before he gets here."

Angeal looks away with a small growl in his throat. You can tell the man isn't particularly a willing participant in this. But he's still standing there and had had no problem eyeing you when you'd undressed. Maybe this whole affair had seemed like a good idea earlier, perhaps over beers, lots of beers knowing a SOLDIER's threshold, but the raven-haired man now seems quite done with the whole thing. 

You take the sealed bottle of lube, even though you already have some in the bag you brought with you, and nod your thanks.

"And try not to steal anything," Genesis purrs and then scans the room briefly. "Not that he has much to steal. You have my number. Call me when you're done." The man gives you one last smile you do your best to ignore, the man probably imagining the gossip he thinks he's going to get out of you, before he walks away, his companion walking just a bit faster to get out to the door. Before the door closes completely, you can already hear their arguing.

You press your lips together and look down at the bottle. It's a brand you've never used before. Or heard of, for that matter. Just by the label, to you, it looks expensive. 

Genesis' warning pops a particular silver-haired man into your mind. You've seen the General before. Not up close. But close enough to know at first glance the man is tall, muscled, and well-proportioned. You have no doubt that what the SOLDIER said could be true. So, you decide to take his advice to heart.

You blow out some air between your nearly touching lips, pick at the protective plastic with a fingernail until it comes off, throwing it in the nearby trash, and then open the bottle, letting a lot of it run onto your fingers. You rub the slippery stuff between your fingers. It quickly warms with the heat of your skin, bringing up a pleasant scent that just hints at musk. At least it's not pineapple flavored. They can never get that flavor right, always too sickly sweet.

After spreading your legs hip width apart, you push one, then two fingers into yourself, then another, pumping slightly, making sure the area is well lubed, ignoring the sensations it brings up in you. This isn't for pleasure. This whole situation isn't for pleasure. It's to get paid. And you haven't been paid yet.

The task complete, you close the bottle back up and then toss it onto your bag near the chair. And then the waiting game begins. You'd been assured that the man would be arriving any minute. Your fingers tug underneath the wide white ribbon bowed at your neck that they insisted that you wear. A present for the taking. The thing is annoying, making it just a bit difficult to swallow, but you've put up with worse.

You're pacing twenty-five minutes later. You can't sit down anymore with a groin that would stain anything it touches. There's nothing in the room to keep you occupied, not even a television. For obvious reasons, it's in your best interest not to touch the computer at the far wall. You can see a clock-radio in the bedroom barely illuminated by the light leaking into it. But you haven't been invited in there yet.

Time ticks by so slowly. Each step makes you more agitated and nervous. You thank Genesis in the back of your mind that the lube was oil based, or it would have already dried up. The only thing that keeps you there in the apartment at that point, well, besides the waiting pimp, is the promise of a whole night's worth of pay, whether or not you're there for the night. But the man has to show up first...

Almost ten minutes later, when the door jerks open, you jolt, turning to the sound. It'd been so quiet in the room, outside of your own impatient footsteps and disjointed throaty growls.

The General stares at you, not bothering to look you over, and you get the feeling he'd known you'd be there. The man doesn't look happy in the least. His body is board straight, tense. His face is emotionless but tinged with darkness. The man is angry. 

Reminded how large and intimidating this person is, you involuntarily back up a step, not knowing exactly where the angry emotion is directed. Weaponless, you have no chance at defending yourself. Never mind that you probably wouldn't have a chance with a weapon either.

You open your mouth to say something, but he interrupts you with, "You can leave now."

Stupidly, you just blink at the words and don't move. The man isn't even going to give you a chance. This isn't going to make your pimp happy. But you figured you should at least get paid for the time you spent digging a hole into the floor with your pacing.

"Did you hear me?" The door is still open, letting anyone see into the apartment.

The intensity in the words stops your mind again. You've been with rough people, jackasses, really, but this is quite different, probably because Sephiroth has absolutely no interest in your body.

You open your mouth again, trying to make your brain work. He takes a step forward. You fumble out, "Just-just let me..." Another couple of steps. You begin to sweat. You notice the sword swinging slightly at his side and swallow at it. "I can do other things, if you don't want sex."

Sephiroth comes to a standstill, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have no use for 'other things,' nor for you. Get dressed and leave."

You start to wonder if you have a death wish, as heat floods your face, as well as the rest of your body. You know you should just get the hell out of there before you're carted out of there, missing a few limbs.

Another step.

The closer he gets, the more you can hear your heartbeat thumping in your head. And... 

And as absurd as it is -- or maybe not absurd at all -- you suddenly recognize the pulsing of your body. You're so turned on that your knees are weakening under the man's intense stare. Could anyone else possibly be more intense? No, not from what you've experienced in any recent memory. And all of that intensity is for you.

You want to feel him and make that look just that much more extreme. To touch the Great General Sephiroth? It's unheard of. As far as the world knows, the man never takes lovers. If he does, surely people would talk about it. In people's eyes, after all, the man is practically a god, more of a fabrication than a real person. Just one touch though, and you'll know for sure what he is, at least physically.

Cat-like aquamarine eyes narrow. Does he sense the change in you? Can he smell it? Your arousal can't be that obvious, right? The again, the goosebumps spreading over your skin, the tightening of your nipples, the blood flow at your groin, all of it is probably obvious as the man draws his gaze downwards, tracing over every inch of your body with the dimly glowing orbs.

Finally, when you're positive he's going to give into what's so obviously his for the night, he meets your eyes again. "Go. Now."

The words dampen your desire, something you haven't felt for another person for far too long. But you had seen something there. An interest. A quickening of breath. A slight flush to his lips and cheeks. You did see -something-. 

Slowly, with the utmost caution, you take a few steps forward, closing the remaining distance. Your hand is even slower as it lifts and touches the armor of his forearm. You watch your hand, too afraid to look in his eyes. You're sure if you reestablish eye contact, he'll throw you out without your clothes on, and you'll be lucky if he tosses out your bag too.

The material is smooth, soft, so unlike the hard muscle underneath that's ridged under your fingers. The man, he smells so earthy, of sun, sweat, and leather. And something else that makes you lightheaded, that marks him as male and yet unique. You lean in, drawing in a breath, making the man suck in one of his own. At the sound, you can help but raise your eyes.

When your gazes meet, he's the one to look away first, his gaze dropping to your chest, not really seeing it. Softly, almost imploring, the man mutters, "You don't have to do this. I'll pay you for the night, if that's why you're still here."

It's a crack, one you know you can pry open and reveal what's underneath. But you also know you have to be careful in how you do it. 

Or, again, the door. 

A whisper, you say truthfully, well, at least it's truthful now, "That's not why I'm still here."

Sephiroth meets your eyes, a slight frown there, but then his eyes lower to the bow at your neck. Long, strong fingers lift and rub at the texture of it. "Did they make you wear this?"

"Yes. I'm your present." Your smile quirks up at the absurdity of such a statement, like you're his. So you add, "For the night, at least."

Making your breath catch, he pulls on the end of one side, slowly undoing the bow, as if he wants to treasure the unwrapping. It's silly to think there's so much thought in the man's actions, but that doesn't matter to your body. You bite your bottom lip and try not to make a sound, not even breath, while he does it. The aching at your groin is beginning to become unbearable. 

You close your eyes when his fingers slip between your skin and the ribbon to pull the knot apart. Every bit of the contact feels like fire with the heat of his skin. Even his nails scratching slightly draw a shiver.

When the fabric falls to the carpet, the fingers are replaced with the man's lips, mouthing lightly at the reddened, vulnerable skin. You suck in a breath, your eyes flashing open and looking to the still open door. You can barely get the breath back out, as you groan, "The door."

The General doesn't seem to hear you at first, but then he stops, pulls away, turning his head to see for himself. And then he pulls away completely, your hand at his arm dropping, and stalks to the door, closing it firmly. When he doesn't turn back around, his hands resting on it, most likely lost in his own indecisions, you try to catch your breath as fear comes back to erode your sensibilities.

Is he going to try to throw you out again? Probably. But does he have the strength to carry it out? You pray he doesn't. You run your fingers over your neck, the tingle and wetness of his lips still on your skin.

Then comes your undoing. Quietly, commandingly, heatedly, Sephiroth says, "Lie down on the bed."

The words shock you at first. It takes a moment to process them to their full extent. But you do. And how could you not obey, especially when they head you in a direction you want to go? You're not quite that stupid. However, your legs feel heavy while watching him as long as you can, your heart hammering, as you make your way to the bedroom some distance away. The apartment is large and could have easily housed a couple of families, based solely on dimensions.

Then again, maybe you _are_ stupid for listening. You don't know this man's tastes. Once he has you in his range, there is little a normal person can do outside of screaming and clawing, and even those could be easily subdued by him. 

Is he loving in bed? Vengeful? Selfish? Sadistic? You do have limits. Every person does, whether or not they want them. However, there's nothing in his apartment, nor his bedroom to give you the slightest clue as to what Sephiroth wants. You can only go by what he's done so far. And what he'd done so far comes close to making love, without the love, anyway.

With the wetness still between your legs, you hesitate to lie down on the pristine white bed. It's almost clinical in its cleanliness and neatness. If a bed could define a person...

When you finally hear booted feet a minute later, you turn around and watch Sephiroth walk wearily up to you. Why has he let you stay, you ask yourself, considering the apparent ease with which he can withdraw. Suddenly the lack of talk from the world about Sephiroth's lovers makes sense, as well as the fact that Genesis and Angeal had bought you for him. You doubt the man has ever had a lover, at least not one that lasted for more than a night. Such as you.

You swallow and watch the General without shame, wanting to know what he's going to do, wanting to keep forever the memories of this night. This will most likely be your only chance to be in his bed, after all.

His sword already taken off in the other room, Sephiroth looks away, and removes his shoulder armor and belt. Then he sits down on the bed, disrupting the perfection there with his weight, and removes his tall boots one by one. He doesn't meet your gaze while he does all of this, and you're not sure why. Finally, he stands back up and removes his coat, his hard muscles twitching, flexing with the movements, leaving only his pants low on a slim waist. 

People are right. He is a god. One that makes you want to be at his mercy.

Finally, his glowing eyes roam over your body in the partial darkness. Your skin heats all over again. How are you ever going to survive this night without burning up to nothing? You're also not sure what you're supposed to do, not with him. Does he want you to take the initiative? Does he simply want to look? You don't know, so you merely stand there, your breathing heaving, your heat making you want to touch yourself, but you resist the primal urge somehow.

"Come here."

Again, it takes a moment to process, but it's a simple command. You walk slowly up to him, feeling like you're melting as he drinks in every step. You know you turn him on too. It's obvious with the hardness you can now easily see at his groin without the extra layers. But you turning him on is not surprising since his friends specifically picked you out for him.

You look at the length, transfixed. The SOLDIER hadn't lied. The man is substantial. And a bit intimidating.

When you're finally close enough to touch each other, he reaches out and pulls you the rest of the way, pulling you solidly against his body, grinding just slightly, letting you know what's now yours for the night. His hands slide down your back until they cup the orbs of your buttocks, bringing you just that much closer. You have to fight the urge to wrap your legs around him, offering yourself up on a platter. You want to let him set the pacing since what he's doing feels so unbelievably good. If it was up to you and what your body is demanding, this would end far too quickly.

Fingers slip between your legs, caressing, pushing just enough to make your body give way.

"You're so wet," he purrs at your ear before nibbling at it and then your jaw.

The words make you tremble. You hum an affirmation that sounds like a moan, as your head tilts, offering up your neck again.

If anyone could see you right now, especially your pimp, they'd think you lost your mind. And maybe you have. This isn't the normal interaction between a customer and a worker, after all. Yes, there had been times when a customer caressed you, made love to you, probably while imagining you were someone else. The difference now though is that you want this just as much.

Yes, you've lost your mind.

Sephiroth turns, forcing you to turn with him as his grip doesn't slacken in the least. When you've more or less switched places, he lets go and urges you to lie down on the bed. You put your arms behind you, feeling its softness before you sit down and the scoot back a bit to get your feet off the floor.

"More."

You push further back and then lie down as the man spreads your legs, coming onto his knees between them. You have the sudden urge to cover your face at the man explores you with his eyes and then his fingers, caressing with a rhythm that makes your breath and heart go haywire. Already you break out into a light sweat. When the rhythm strengthens, you spread your legs further, trying to offer yourself up to him. He seems to take the hint, plunging a finger from his other hand into you. 

The General leans forward, the shifted weight noticeable on the plush mattress. When you feel his tongue, you can no longer contain your voice. Your mouth opens and the moans come out in time with his dual, marvelous attentions. While getting played with, teased, caressed, bit, you can't help but feel a bit of shame at your looseness. You shouldn't want this, not this much. But your body doesn't care what your mind wants.

The man licks, suckles, scrapes his teeth, all of it driving you mad as more fingers plunge in, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. Just the thought of him plunging into you with something far larger is now enough to make you lose it. You grip the crumpled up bedspread as you come hard to his mouth and hand. And then he licks you some more, despite your wiggles, obviously enjoying the taste of you. 

Finally, feeling overloaded, you bring your hands to the top of his head and push. "Stop. Please, I..."

Do you really want him to stop? No, you don't, but you need a second or two. His mouth relents, but the fingers won't stop. You can feel yourself tight around them, your body not ready to let go. You look down at him, your lids as heavy as your breathing. He's smiling a strange little smile, and it warms you and makes you smile back, despite yourself.

Sephiroth sits back on his feet and you watch as he finally unbuttons his pants and pulls out what you've been waiting to see ever since you got the call. It makes you spread your legs wider, to show how ready you are despite any apprehension of its size.

Instead of plunging in however, the man backs up until he's off the bed and the completely removes his pants. Then, even more disturbing, he walks away, but follows the edge of the bed, his firm erection wobbling proudly with every step. You can't take your eyes off of it. Sephiroth reaches into the side table and pulls out a condom and some more lube. A good thing since you forgot to grab one.

As erotic as anything else, watching him open the package and slip the condom on finally makes you touch yourself without shame, not hesitating to plunge a finger in. He's right, you are wet, especially with his added saliva.

He watches you, slipping more lube on from tip to base. When he's finally between your legs again, propping your legs up on his shoulders, you're undulating your hips against your greedy hand, knowing you're going to come again. He grabs your hand, stilling it, then brings it to his mouth, licking it, sucking on the digits, creating sounds in you that are cross between a moan and a whimper.

The man places your hand on his chest, holding it there, and uses his other hand to put himself inside of you, apparently quite ready himself, if his heavy breathing is any indication. He pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust, slowing down the whole process until you're a hot, sweating mess being filled to capacity.

For a long while, his strokes are leisurely, as if he wants to feel everything and not forget it himself, just like you. It's not until you start pawing and clawing at his chest, griping at flesh and muscle, almost miserable at his slowness in an extremely heated way, that he picks up the pace. When he does, he bends you so that he can kiss you fully, deeply. His hungry moans carry into your mouth, yours meeting his, as his free hand touches the heat at your groin with abandon. 

The thickness of him rubbing you just the right way, the cleverness of his hand and mouth, all of it makes you come so explosively that you think for a second you passed out. Then he pulls away, breathing, moaning loudly enough to make the remnants of your orgasm strong. His body tenses powerfully, repeatedly, his groin smacking against yours, as he comes inside of you.

Moments later he releases your legs, comes down onto his elbows, and licks your lips, pumping one more time for the hell of it.

"I should be paying you," you groan, lost in the brilliant aftereffects and the pleasing weight of his body.

Sephiroth chuckles before he traces the line of your jaw with his mouth and kisses you again with a passion you had no idea in the world the Great General Sephiroth had. Too bad it's only for one night.

When he lifts away again to look at you, searching your face, you smile and say, "Happy Birthday."


End file.
